


This Isn't Baby Fever, It's Something Special

by circletrapped



Series: Writing Mando S3/Book of Boba Because Favreau and Filoni Aren't Doing It Fast Enough [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Babysitting, Fluff, M/M, a hint of angst, are y'all ready for some buir boba??????, din sucks at emotion and honestly i can't blame him, favreau take notes, he's gonna be a good father like his father before him, in which i rely far too heavily on italics, me while writing any interaction between luke and boba: the girls are fightingggggg!!!, showering together, very touchy-feely, when in doubt make up space drugs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29258877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circletrapped/pseuds/circletrapped
Summary: "Boba knew that if there was business involving the kid, it wouldn’t be on Tatooine. And since he had promised the safety of the child (and protection of his father), he knew that soon he wouldn’t be, either."It's time for Din to go to the temple and visit Grogu. In order to prevent an otherwise inevitable spiral, Boba makes the trip with him. When Boba meets Grogu for the first time, their quickly-formed bond has him considering something much more serious for his and Din's relationship.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Boba Fett
Series: Writing Mando S3/Book of Boba Because Favreau and Filoni Aren't Doing It Fast Enough [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150397
Comments: 28
Kudos: 232





	1. Interruption

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nervouslaughter508](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nervouslaughter508/gifts).



> go check out Nervouslaughter508 on here (disruptive-existence on tumblr) seriously, she's amazing and inspired me to write this one (and helped me a lot with the title) so go show her some love!!!

“I’ll be giving you two choices, T’Kaar,” Boba sighed, twirling his blaster between his fingers as he paced in front of the bound Twi’lek man on his knees before him. Fennec was perched on the arm of the throne mimicking her comrade’s action, with a dagger in her hand rather than a blaster. While Boba’s face was hidden behind Mandalorian armor, a malicious grin could be seen spread across her face. She seemed to have a wicked amusement with interrogations. “You can either repay your debt to me, or I can tell the New Republic about your little _operation.”_

The “operation” being the production and distribution of _sirrahk_ , a narcotic of T’Kaar’s own design that had been circulating Tatooine and the planets of the Outer Rim as of late. In low doses, it caused a pleasant numbing sensation over the whole body and loosened the mind. One particle of the powder too many, however, would lead the taker to act on violent impulses and be impervious to pain, which made resisting and overpowering officers a simple feat.

It only made sense that the New Republic wanted to stop its spread as quickly as they could. They were not, however, very talented in the area of identifying from whom it came – especially when it came from someone protected by the revered Boba Fett.

Boba had promised his alliance to the New Republic, but had said nothing about cooperation. Tatooine was _his_ territory, and he was determined to keep it that way. He and Fennec hadn’t dismantled the Hutt Empire to be as useless as Bib Fortuna had been in ruling the planet. While dissolving the planet's slave trade (mostly by killing those that didn’t immediately comply with the order), there were some criminal aspects that proved to be valuable assets.

But seeing as one of his assets no longer yielded any return, Boba found that he had to revisit the agreement he had made with T’Kaar. Boba had expected a certain amount of compensation in return for concealing the aforementioned operation but had been neglected. This was a cause for reprimand.

“P-Please, your majesty! I just need more time; if you would just be patient-”

“I’ve _been_ patient!” Boba roared, flipping around and turning his blaster to aim between T’Kaar’s eyes. They slightly crossed as he looked down the barrel. “You’ve had plenty of time. Time you’ve spent gambling my money away.”

It was Fennec who had come to him with that information. In addition to being a skilled assassin, she was very valuable in the realm of reconnaissance. She would bring information to Boba, he would make the decisions and lead the interrogations, she would carry out any punishment, they would split their profits. Together they made a deadly pair.

It was unfortunate that T’Kaar had such poor luck, otherwise Boba might have been able to let him get away with the gambling.

“You don’t understand-”

“I’ll only tell you one more time,” Boba began, putting his unoccupied arm behind his back and leaning down until his helmet was nearly touching the Twi’lek’s nose, “you can pay me… or you can kiss your protection g-”

A trilling from his throne cut off his words. Boba clenched his jaw and turned around to see a communication puck flashing red. Somebody was attempting to have a conversation with him at the _worst possible time._ Given his distance from it, he wasn't able to read the text that signified exactly _who_ was contacting him. Fennec reached for it, but Boba put up a finger. She slowly retracted her hand.

 _Whoever is on that stupid puck had better_ pray _that their name is Din Djarin._

Din was the only person other than Fennec who could get away with interrupting his business. The reason being the bond that they had formed after rescuing Grogu. How Boba had sworn to protect Din. How Din would always confide in Boba when he was upset, scared, or unsure.

Before wasting any more time thinking about their relationship, Boba stormed to his throne and snatched the puck, not bothering to read the name of whoever was calling and nearly breaking the damned thing from how much force he put into pressing the button on it. Sure enough, the familiar sleek beskar helmet of the Mand’alor was staring back at him through a blue hologram. Despite the circumstances, he smiled slightly at the sight of it under his helmet.

“Mand’alor,” Boba simply greeted. It hadn’t taken him long to discover that it was the only formal title that didn’t make Din cringe. That and _Princess,_ but that was one he refrained from using in the presence of others.

_“My King.”_

Oh, Boba knew _that_ title. It was the one that Din would use when wanted something but was being cautious in case there were spectators. Boba glanced over his shoulder at Fennec, who was failing to stifle a smirk. Incidentally, she _also_ knew what that title meant.

_If only I had time for this._

“Get to the point,” Boba spat. He _really_ hoped that Din knew that his harsh words were nothing more than a show for the criminal below him. “You’re interrupting something important.”

Din sighed. _“Right. Okay. This can wait.”_

Din was a pitiful liar.

“It won’t. Out with it.”

_“It’s- osik, I knew I shouldn’t have-”_

“Now!”

 _“It’s about the child!”_ Din finally blurted. _“Look, I’m in Mos Eisley, alright? You know where I’ll be. Just.. whenever you’re done with this, come find me.”_

Boba didn’t have time to ask questions before the transmission ended. He knew, however, that if there was business involving the kid, it wouldn’t be on Tatooine. And since he had promised the safety of the child (and protection of his father), he knew that soon he wouldn’t be, either.

Boba slowly turned to the Twi’lek. “You have until I return to collect what you owe me.” He slipped his blaster back into the holster on his waist. “Release him,” he commanded Fennec, not even giving a glance over his shoulder.

Fennec slid off the arm of the throne and stalked over to T’Kaar. She knelt down and used the knife she’d been fiddling with to release his bonds and pointed the knife toward the door. He quickly leapt to his feet and sprinted to it, tripping once on the stairs before disappearing.

“Think you can keep things running while I’m gone?” Boba asked Fennec.

“There’s a reason I’m your second in command, isn’t there?”

“Knew I could count on you.”

“So, do you _actually_ know where to find him, or are you gonna guess until you do?”

“I have a pretty good feeling I know precisely where he is.”

And, sure enough, Boba was right. Din was sitting at the exact table in the corner of the same cantina they’d visited after rescuing Grogu.

As Boba crossed the threshold, silence fell over the patrons and the band stopped their performance. Boba gave a displeased grunt and waved his hand in dismissal. He assumed that any discussion of the kid would be better under a blanket of noise. Idle chatter and soft music steadily resumed as they came to understand that Boba had demanded no attention to him.

Din’s shoulders tensed as Boba stepped toward him. Whatever was going on obviously had him on edge. But Din’s message hadn’t contained the frantic pace of a man whose child was in danger. So what was it about Grogu that was so damn important?

“You got here quick,” Din said. His hands wouldn’t stay still as they trilled against the table and idly swept condensation off the glass of what appeared to just be water. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“I wasn’t really angry with you, you know,” Boba was quick to clarify. “But I have a certain reputation, one that doesn’t allow me to have a soft spot even for you.”

Din let out a loud breath and his shoulders fell. Boba felt a pang of guilt ripple down his neck and through his chest for making Din so anxious. He reached across the table to brace one of his hands on Din’s forearm.

“Now can you _please_ tell me what’s going on?”

And just like that, Din tensed once more.

“I… Skywalker wants me to visit Grogu.”

Boba stared at Din.

“And I miss him so much. All I want is to see him again, but…”

“But?”

Din dipped his head down for a moment and sighed. When it came back up, Boba could feel the discomfort radiating off Din.

“But I just can’t. Not…” Din swallowed. “Not alone.”

Boba’s grip on Din’s arm tightened as he realized what Din was asking of him.

“Din,” Boba drew in a low voice, concealing the use of his first name. “Do you remember what I promised you that night in the desert?”

Din let out a worried noise. “That you’d… you’d protect me?”

“For as long as you need me, I’ll protect you,” Boba finished for him. “And if you need me to protect you from overwhelming feelings, I will gladly do so.”

Din slid his arm back slightly, stopping when his fingers brushed against Boba’s. Boba intertwined them, barely holding back the urge to take Din’s head in his other hand and bring him into a _Keldabe._ The only thing stopping him was his reputation.

If that’s what you’d call it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mando’a translations
> 
> osik = shit


	2. Indulgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Din seemed to be able to process things a lot better when he had someone guide him through it, yet he would never ask for guidance. For as smart as he was, emotional awareness was certainly not his forte. Or maybe he was just stubborn. "  
> Boba shows Din how to rest.

The pacing.

The damn _pacing._

Boba knew it was a habit Din would probably never break no matter how many times he practically pleaded with him to sit down. Each time, Din would defer to Boba’s request for roughly two minutes before finding some excuse to stand up again and continue that annoying parade of his.

Still, Boba knew better than to tell Din to take his pacing to the lower deck of _Slave I._ He knew all too well how easily Din could spiral when it came to the kid. He knew that leaving Din alone with his thoughts would leave the man an absolute wreck.

So he had resolved to let Din pace behind him in the cockpit, no matter how thin it was wearing.

And it was wearing _pretty damn thin._

So thin, in fact, that Boba had put his helmet _back on_ just to block out the noise of Din’s footsteps. He hadn’t completely concealed all sound, but it proved to be effective at muffling the steps enough to spare him a headache. At a low volume, it actually wasn’t so bad. It was almost like a metronome.

Boba didn’t realize that he had started idly humming until Din stopped his steady pacing.

“Sorry,” Boba mumbled, “I know you got a lot on your mind; I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Boba could hear Din speak but couldn’t make out what Din was saying for the life of him. He lifted his helmet and went to set it down in the seat next to him but startled when his hand brushed Din’s thigh. Evidently, he had sat down unprompted for once. Din rested his arms on top of the helmet, softly trilling gloved fingers over it.

“You do that a lot?” Din asked.

“Do what, now?”

“Sing?”

Boba felt a tingle of embarrassment creep up his neck.

“Didn’t think I was singing.”

“I mean, you were just humming, but it’s basically the same.” Boba couldn’t bring his eyes up to meet Din’s through the opaque visor. To him, music was something sacred; something that he had shared with his father and his father alone. He only let himself indulge in it when he was safe in solitude. “I didn’t mind. It sounded good.”

“I don’t like to sing in front of others.”

Of course, if Boba were being completely honest with himself, he would admit that he had spent years yearning for someone to share music with again. If anyone were the right person, it would be Din. And if Din was comfortable sharing his face with Boba, couldn’t Boba be comfortable sharing his voice with Din?

“Fair enough,” Din said through a yawn as he stretched in his seat. A satisfying series of cracks from his spine followed. Boba could tell that Din was exhausted. It had been midday when they’d left the planet’s surface, so Boba wasn’t as tired as Din. But the combination of Din being on a different planet’s solar schedule and him barely sitting since they left probably had him worn out beyond belief.

“Why don’t you go down and get some rest?” Boba hummed, resting one of his hands on top of Din’s, stilling its movement. “The code for my quarters is 52646. I have a cloak in there that’s the softest material I own that you can wear. The hood is satisfactory when it comes to concealing one’s face.”

Din squeezed Boba’s hand. “What about you?”

“I’m afraid I’m not quite as tired as you are, Princess. Just rest. I’ll join you later.”

Din sighed, but seemingly decided against arguing as he descended the ladder and left Boba alone. It had been tempting to have Din use his thighs as a pillow to rest, but Boba knew that Din could use a proper mattress. Not to mention being able to take off his armor. And helmet.

Boba knew that Din didn’t have much of a problem showing his face to him, but he also knew that Din’s apprehension about removing the helmet was more of an issue with the act rather than the witness. That’s why Boba had offered the cloak – if he had gone to join Din in his quarters, Din wouldn’t have to worry about his face being seen without consent.

There really wasn’t any reason for Boba to stay at the conn. He had loaded in the coordinates to Skywalker’s temple and _Slave I_ was hurling through hyperspace. He was free to wander about the ship, eat something, rest with Din.

_Din._

This wasn’t the first time that Boba and Din had seen each other since the rescue. Din had visited Boba’s palace at least three times - first to negotiate trade between Tatooine and Mandalore, then the protection of Mandalorian coverts on Tatooine, then military strategy. Their talks would often turn into shooing Fennec out of the room so that the Princess and his King could shift their focus to hours of delicate kissing on the throne.

The third time Din had visited, Fennec caught them in the act. Given his rather close relationship with Boba, he had also become a little less shy with _her_ when it came to showing his face, but that wasn’t what had embarrassed him most about the incident. Not that she had been surprised - the two of them were hardly subtle around her. It was inevitable considering that she and Boba were attached at the hip.

But Din had refused visits after that. He would dodge communications from Boba or make excuses not to speak with him. At first, Boba had attributed it to the humiliation of having been caught, but as time went on, it became harder for Boba to accurately judge exactly what was going on behind that beskar helmet of his. It was mildly distressing, however, how Din wasn’t communicating his feelings.

Din seemed to be able to process things a lot better when he had someone guide him through it, yet he would never ask for guidance. For as smart as he was, emotional awareness was certainly not his forte. Or maybe he was just stubborn. But having to confront the idea of leaving Grogu behind again must have finally gotten through his head. Grogu had been his purpose for so long. Giving up his kid and taking rulership he didn’t even want of a planet he’d never even been to must have been a transition that hit him like a blaster shot.

Boba’s head turned sharply as he heard a noise behind him. A tall, hooded figure ascended the ladder into the cockpit and lifted Boba’s helmet from the seat, taking its place. Boba clicked his tongue.

“I thought I told you to rest.”

“I can rest just fine up here.”

_“Din._ You need to be comfortable to properly rest.”

“I’d be more comfortable laying across these seats in full armor with my head in your lap than I would wearing nothing with my head on the softest pillows in existence.”

Boba’s lips twitched upward.

“So you’re compromising? Wearing the softest material and resting in my lap?”

Din lowered the hood and positioned himself to lay between the two seats. Roughly twenty seconds of awkward shuffling later, he was finally looking up at Boba with those brown eyes of his and a lopsided grin. That expression never failed to break down Boba’s cold, hard exterior and make him absolutely _melt._

“Yeah. Compromising.”

Boba watched as Din’s eyes flicked every which direction over his face. He kept his gaze on Din’s brows and lips, looking for any sign of reaction. Boba knew that the Sarlacc hadn’t left him the most attractive man in the galaxy, but he tried not to think about it too much. He took solace in the fact that the soft grin on Din’s face didn’t waver.

Boba wove one of his hands through Din’s hair, earning quite a needy whine as he leaned into the touch. It was clear that nobody had given him this kind of attention since he was a young boy. As Boba continued the light scratching at Din’s scalp, he noticed that touching wasn’t the only aspect in which Din’s hair had been neglected. He took a few strands between his thumb and index finger and slightly twisted, feeling how dry Din’s hair was and letting out a displeased hum.

Din’s lips turned down and his brows drew together. His looking up behind them added to the offended expression. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Boba chuckled. “Nothing, your hair is just-”

“Look, I don’t use water refreshers, alright?”

“Why not?”

“I just _don’t.”_

“Is it because you don’t like them?”

Din stayed silent, now folding his arms across his chest. He was no longer looking into Boba’s eyes; his focus was somewhere on the wall by his feet. It only confirmed what Boba had figured out the first time Din had used the ‘fresher aboard _Slave I._

When he had slipped into the room after Din, a twinge of annoyance pricked at him when he discovered the water was cold. Then he looked at the temperature dial to discover that it had actually been _set_ to be cold. When he twisted it to the right for hot water, it was in abundance.

_Din just refuses to let himself have luxury._

Boba hooked a hand under Din’s neck and guided him to sit up.

_I suppose I’ll have to give it to him, then._

“Would you like to shower together?”

Boba asked the question as he would asking Din if he wanted to eat. Din’s brows shot up and he visibly swallowed, his bronze complexion quickly being tinged with red. Of course, that question had a certain… _connotation_ to it. Boba gave out a light laugh.

“Just that. Nothing else.”

Despite how close they’d gotten to actually having sex their first night together on Tatooine when Boba had gotten far too ahead of himself in the aftermath of the two of them nearly dying (a memory that never failed to send shame coursing through Boba’s veins), they’d never gotten that close again. Sure, their makeout sessions on the throne would involve Din’s legs wrapped tightly around Boba’s waist and Boba’s hands on any part of Din’s skin he could get his hands on, but they never exchanged words of consent. And ever since Boba had gotten less than consent with having Din removing his helmet in front of him for the first time and (almost) fucking him through Peli’s floor, it was something upon which he had decided to place the utmost caution.

So it only made sense that sexual pleasure was the one indulgence he’d make Din _ask for_ before giving it to him.

“I just want to show you proper hair maintenance.”

Din opened his mouth.

“Don’t.” Boba blurted before Din could even make a noise. “My head hasn’t always looked like this, you know.”

The joke seemed to relax Din, as he let out a breathy laugh.

“Alright,” he finally conceded. “I suppose it’d be more efficient with… with, uh, with both of us at the same- same time.”

The sight was something Boba wouldn’t have believed if he hadn’t seen it with his own two eyes – a hardened Mandalorian bounty hunter, not to mention King, being so shy about sharing a refresher with another person. But Boba was determined to get Din to open up to this kind of thing. He found that vulnerability, while horribly uncomfortable, was necessary to release negative energy from the mind.

Negative energy which Din’s mind most certainly had excess.

Boba stood from his seat, his right knee making a painful protest. It was one of many injuries that hadn’t quite healed properly. He ignored it, thinking instead of the relief that hot water would be bringing it in just a few minutes. He extended a hand to Din, who seemed to only take it as a formality and put virtually no weight on Boba’s hand as he stood.

After going down the ladder into the lower deck, they locked their hands together again as Boba led him to the refresher. Crossing the threshold into the small room once again sparked the memory of discovering that Din had intentionally showered in cold water. Even though Boba was certain he knew the answer, he still felt compelled to ask. After all, it probably hadn’t occurred to Din, who absolutely would not acknowledge his line of thought if he weren’t saying it out loud to another person.

“Why did you use cold water?”

Din averted his gaze as he began undoing the buttons of Boba’s cloak.

“Didn’t want to waste any of your hot water.”

“How would you be wasting it if I had offered it to you?”

“Because _I_ was the one who-” Din stopped abruptly. He took a moment to choose his words. “I mean, it’s _your_ ship, Boba. _Your_ water.”

Before Boba could argue, Din slipped the cloak down his shoulders and hung it on a nearby hook. It was at that moment Boba discovered that Din hadn’t been wearing anything underneath. He felt his throat go dry as he ran his eyes over Din’s body, careful not to let his gaze linger between his legs.

He had traced the rough combat scars on Din’s body enough to know exactly where to find them. Din often chose to cauterize his wounds rather than treat them with bacta, something that Boba had found was a pet peeve of his. Din’s muscles were toned nicely, but Boba couldn’t help but notice the way his hips were so defined. His wrists, too. Din really only ate to keep himself alive, it seemed.

“Sweet boy,” Boba sighed, laying one hand on Din’s hip and gently running his thumb over the protruding bone. He wrapped the other around Din’s neck, noticing that his hair had grown nearly past its base. Din tipped his head forward to meet Boba’s. The _Keldabe_ made Boba all the more aware of how neglected Din really was. _“Mesh’la._ Gorgeous,” he whispered.

_He’s not only denying himself luxury, but basic comfort._

“Alright,” Din huffed, tugging at the fabric underneath Boba’s armor. “I’m tired of being the only naked one in the room.”

The bluntness of Din’s statement struck Boba as he burst into uncontrollable laughter. He looked up at Din to see the ghost of a smile on his face.

“Help me out of this armor; it’ll go quicker with both of us undoing it.”

The separated plates of armor were one of few aspects of his father’s armor that he had considered changing. They made it an absolute pain in the ass to put on and take off. All the clasps and fastening – it took nearly ten minutes when Boba was doing it alone. Even so, he would never let Fennec even touch the armor, let alone handle it.

But Din was Mandalorian. He knew the mechanisms and the importance of delicacy. Together, they made quick work of the armor. It was only a few minutes before Boba’s _kute_ was all that remained. Thankfully, removing that was barely a matter of unwrapping a few things and shifting his arms.

Then Boba had to endure the same treatment he’d given Din not minutes ago.

He could feel Din’s eyes looking over every crease, mark, burn on his body. Despite his best efforts, there were still some days were insecurity hung over Boba’s shoulders almost as much as Fennec. His body had been damaged from decades of reckless bounty hunting, not to mention that damned Sarlacc. But Din’s expression didn’t match that which Boba had in the mirror on bad days. His eyes were soft and his lips slightly parted as he took in the sight before him. Eventually his eyes flicked back up to meet Boba’s.

“Gorgeous.”

Relief swept over Boba at the simple word. He hadn’t known what to expect – he didn’t take Din as the type to outright insult somebody’s appearance. Then again, that was seldom the first word that would come to Boba’s mind when thinking of himself.

But in this moment, it only mattered what Din thought.

“Come on,” Boba murmured through a grin and took Din’s hand. He slid open the glass door and gestured for Din to enter before him. Boba stepped into the refresher behind him. “Now turn it to the _middle._ Not just slightly like you did last time.”

Din did as he was told, flinching when the water hit his skin. Boba stretched his hand out in front of Din to feel the water. It barely had a hint of heat.

“Alright. Now turn it more, but not too much. I don’t want you getting burned.”

Din slowly turned the dial. Steadily, the water gained warmth and Din eventually sighed. Boba felt the water again. It wasn’t quite as hot as he usually liked, but he figured that Din’s skin would be sensitive to hot water given his lack of overall exposure to it throughout his life.

“Very good.”

Boba ran his fingers through Din’s hair to get all of it wet. A low moan went over Din’s lips. Boba placed a kiss in the crook of Din’s shoulder.

_“Jate._ So good for me.”

Boba turned to the small indent in the wall that housed three different soaps – one that belonged to Boba for general use (unscented as not to agitate any of Boba’s scars), and two that belonged to Fennec. Hers were scented and one of them was specifically for hair use.

“Don’t tell Fennec.”

“Don’t tell her what?”

Boba said nothing in response and opened the cap to the hair soap, an earthy smell akin to a flora-rich forest in winter filling the air. He poured some into his hands before replacing the bottle and working it into a lather.

“Now close your eyes. If this gets in them, it’ll sting like hell.”

Boba very lightly began massaging the soap onto Din’s scalp, earning a soft hum from him. The soap foamed up quickly and some rolled down Din’s neck. As Boba worked, he noticed that many strands of Din’s hair were splitting at the ends. He decided he’d take care of that later. For now, he was focused on the pure intimacy of washing Din’s hair.

“Turn around. Keep your eyes closed.”

Once again, Din obeyed. The sight of a man with such defined facial features that would otherwise be intimidating being completely relaxed with bubbles atop his head was both amusing and incredibly endearing to Boba. He took both of Din’s hands in his and pulled him forward to where the water was only touching his backside. Bringing one hand to Din’s forehead and the other to the back of his neck, Boba tilted Din’s head back so he could rinse the soap from his hair.

Boba made sure to take his time with the rinse. He wanted to make sure that no soap was left over and that Din got to experience the bliss of hot water running through his hair as long as possible. It was a feeling that Boba missed. Boba didn’t stop stroking Din’s hair until the water ran clear.

“There,” Boba whispered. “All done.”

Din’s eyes fluttered open.

“Do we have to get out now?”

A smile broke out on Boba’s face. Perhaps Din was learning how to let himself ask for indulgence.

“We don’t need to go anywhere.”

Din draped his arms around Boba’s neck and pressed their foreheads together. Boba lifted his chin to give Din a light kiss on his lips before putting his head back into the _Keldabe._

It wasn’t until Din suddenly yelped and pressed himself into Boba’s chest, accidentally knocking the two of them against the wall behind him, that they broke their formation. Boba felt the water and was assaulted with bone-chilling cold. He chuckled and reached past Din to turn off the water.

Boba left the refresher first, grabbing one of the towels and draping it around Din’s shoulders. He pressed another kiss on his lips before grabbing a towel of his own. The two of them stole glances at each other while drying themselves but said nothing, even when one caught the other staring.

Din took Boba’s cloak from the floor and fastened the buttons on it. Boba grabbed a robe of his that had been hanging on another hook in the room and slipped it on.

“Now, I believe it’s time for you to get some rest.”

“I, uh... I forgot the code to your quarters. Could you put it in for me?”

Boba lightly shook his head and smiled, taking Din’s hand and leading him to his quarters. Din didn’t let go as Boba entered the numbers on the pad. Or when the door opened. Or as he entered the room.

“Din-”

“Please?”

Din didn’t even need to ask the whole question. Boba let out a small sigh before lifting Din’s hand to his lips and kissing it.

“Alright. I suppose you’ve earned it.”

Din flashed that smile of his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mando'a translations
> 
> mesh'la = beautiful  
> kute = underwear, clothes worn under armor (in this context, second definition is apt)  
> jate = good


	3. Irritation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Grogu wouldn’t truly be safe ever, but he’d be a lot closer if he knew how to use the Force. And he wouldn’t be able to learn if Boba incapacitated his teacher. Even if that teacher almost got him killed."  
> Din has a reunion with Grogu, Boba has a reunion with Luke Skywalker. It goes about as well as you'd think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do i write boba speaking unreasonable amounts of mando'a just because i love imagining tem's voice whispering mando'a in my ear? perhaps...

Boba was awakened by the back of Din’s hand hitting him square in the nose. On instinct, Boba grabbed Din’s wrist and twisted his arm above his head, pinning it to the bed. Din jerked awake, yelling out a curse. Boba let go and Din drew his arm to his chest, rubbing at his shoulder.

“That was rude of you,” Din grunted, grabbing his end of the blanket and throwing it over his shoulder as he turned away from Boba.

“I’m _sorry,”_ Boba chuckled, “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

Din’s voice was muffled by the pillow beneath him. His tone was irritated, but Boba could clearly hear the playful teasing behind it. Boba tugged the covers down to see Din doing a very poor job of concealing a grin. He leaned down to kiss Din, who propped himself up with one arm and wrapped the other around Boba’s back. The whole situation struck a chord deep within Boba.

One that hadn’t been struck in a very long time.

After the loss of his father, he’d all but given up on family. He didn’t want that kind of bond with someone if it were just going to be ripped from him once again. But he’d always secretly wanted that kind of relationship – so secretly that he didn’t even let _himself_ admit that it was anything more than a fleeting desire sparked by the innate social tendencies that come with being human.

Nevertheless, the thought of sharing love, a home, a life with somebody else would grow undeniably appealing whenever Din was in sight.

“You ready to see your kid?”

“I think so.”

“Think so?”

“I just can’t stop thinking about what that Jedi said.”

“Who, Skywalker? What’d that little punk say?”

“No, no, her name was Ahsoka Tano. She refused to train Grogu because he’s ‘too attached’ to me, and that’s apparently dangerous for Jedi,” Din explained, making quotes with his fingers. Boba brought his eyebrows together and frowned. “And I’m afraid that Skywalker’s gonna say the same thing. Maybe he’s only letting me visit to tell me it’s goodbye for good.”

Boba paused for a moment. Would becoming too attached to Din be dangerous for him, too? Boba knew he cared for Din much more than he did anyone. If he let that grow into something real, it was possible that Din would be put in danger by people hoping to use Boba’s emotions as leverage. Not to mention the kind of damage it would do to _Boba_ if he lost Din.

_Maybe attachments_ are _too dangerous to keep around._

“That’s a load of shit,” Boba growled, mostly in response to his own thoughts.

_“Boba!”_

“If he says _anything_ like that, I’ll knock his damn lights out. I’ll train the kid myself.”

“You don’t have powers like he does.”

“That’s right. I’ll train him in _real_ combat.”

Din cracked a smile and leaned up to kiss Boba again.

“Promise me… you won’t… assault… Skywalker,” Din whispered between kisses. Boba sighed and sat back on his legs, frowning. “Please?”

“I can’t get payback? The revenge I’ve been thinking of nearly uninterrupted for six years?”

Din stayed silent. Boba didn’t blame him – it’s not like if the roles were switched, he’d have a good answer either. He could see the understanding in Din’s eyes. He understood that there was no convincing Boba that revenge was undeserved. His only viable rebuttal would be…

“I need _someone_ to train Grogu to use the Force so he can protect himself.”

Boba’s expression softened. He had sworn to ensure the child’s safety. Grogu wouldn’t truly be safe ever, but he’d be a lot closer if he knew how to use the Force. And he wouldn’t be able to learn if Boba incapacitated his teacher. Even if that teacher almost got him killed. And caused him to lose his health and armor. And looks.

_Though Din doesn’t seem to mind that._

Boba leaned back down and pressed his forehead against Din’s, letting his eyes drift shut as he prepared to compromise everything he’d been building up for the better part of a decade.

“Fine. I’ll be civil.”

He felt Din lightly chuckle beneath him.

“But you’re letting me fix your hair.”

Din pulled back and looked up toward his hair, which was beginning to fall in front of his eyes.

“It’s not that bad!” he whined.

“It’s damaged. You need to trim it every so often, you know.”

“I _did!_ Right after we met, actually.”

“That was _months_ ago, Princess.”

Din huffed, his cheeks flushing red. It never ceased to amaze Boba just _how much_ that particular nickname did for Din. He suspected that it had something to do with Din being able to give up control, something that he could certainly benefit from, in Boba’s opinion.

“Just don’t mess it up,” Din muttered. “I have someone to impress now.”

If Boba had been paying even slightly less attention, he would have missed the almost imperceptible wink from Din. Boba pressed a kiss against Din’s lips.

“You stay right here. I’ll be right back.”

Boba stood, giving one last glance and smile towards Din before leaving his quarters and walking to a storage closet – more of a cubby, really. It was small and only took up a portion of the wall’s length. It acted as a storage for a first-aid kit, emergency rations, blankets, and a bin of random junk for which there was no other place. It took about twelve seconds of digging through it until Boba’s fingers finally closed around a pair of scissors. They weren’t quite as sharp as they used to be, but they’d get the job done.

He returned to his quarters after grabbing a stool from the small kitchenette and instructed Din to sit, taking a position behind him.

“Alright, now hold still,” Boba murmured, using a hand to guide Din’s head to stand straight. He took the scissors and braced them over the hair a few centimeters below Din’s jaw. “Ready?”

Din hummed in affirmation, albeit unsure. As Boba closed the scissors, he could see Din’s shoulders tense in time with the noise of the blades scraping together. It only got worse as small clumps of hair on onto them. But Boba didn’t take long cutting the back of Din’s hair and around his ears. He brushed the hair off Din’s shoulder and placed a kiss in the spot where Din’s neck and shoulder connected.

“All done with that,” Boba whispered against the skin, feeling Din just barely relax under the vibration of his lips. “Now all I have to do is take care of these split ends.”

It was a simple yet time-consuming task – one that could easily allow Boba to get lost in his thoughts. But the only thing he could think of was that stupid Luke Skywalker and everything that kid took from him.

Until he noticed how much the sound of the scissors was putting Din on edge. His eyes were shut tight, his shoulders were once again drawn back, and his jaw was clenched. So Boba shifted his thoughts to comforting the man before him. His hands were too occupied with Din’s hair. He needed to keep his eyes on it, too, so he wasn’t able to pepper kisses over every part of Din’s body that he’d let him.

Before he knew it, he was humming under his breath.

It wasn’t any particular melody, just random notes that he thought were calming and sounded good. Fortunately, Din seemed to agree. His eyelids slightly loosened, his shoulders fell about a millimeter, and his jaw relaxed just enough to where it wouldn’t hurt Din’s teeth anymore.

“That’s right, _udesii,_ sweetheart,” Boba soothed. “Almost done.”

“Promise?”

It was the way that Din’s voice broke on the second syllable that made Boba send the scissors clattering across the bedside table. Boba caught the way Din flinched at the sudden noise. He tilted Din’s head back and shook his hand through his hair, sending any loose trimmings to the floor. He draped his arms around Din’s chest and drooped his head so that his lips were next to Din’s ear. Din’s heart was racing.

_“Ni ceta,”_ Boba shushed, tracing circles on Din’s chest. “No more.”

Boba continued humming and gently swayed both himself and Din back and forth until he felt Din’s heartbeat slow.

“What happened?” Boba asked in a hushed tone, trying to keep Din calm. Din hadn’t cascaded into a panic, but Boba wanted to make sure that he didn’t put him in a similar situation that _would_ cause him to.

“I don’t- I’m not really sure. Maybe, with the hair, an-and the blades, I don’t know. And that _noise,_ it’s _awful.”_

It wasn’t hard for Boba to understand what Din meant; he’d calmed down Din so many times that he had developed the ability to decipher his stuttering. The jarring noise being so close to his exposed head and altering something which was such a point of vulnerability for him – no wonder it was so overwhelming.

There were about a million things Boba wanted to say to Din at that moment – he wanted to ask if he was okay, he wanted to reassure him, he wanted to tell him just _how much_ he cared about him – but nothing felt right.

“We should be ready to make the jump soon,” Boba whispered. “We ought to get dressed.”

Din practically gasped for air as he jumped off the stool and made his way to Boba’s closet, where he had stored his armor before. Pulling the stool out of the room, Boba decided that he would wait for Din to get in his armor before returning to him. Din was on edge about a number of things, and Boba didn’t want to add to that. It was then that he remembered that his _kute_ and armor were stacked neatly in the refresher room.

While putting on each piece of his armor, Boba couldn’t stop thinking about Din being so stressed. The way he had almost curled into himself. How he looked like he was trying to make himself disappear. The unfiltered distress that was coming off him. Boba wasn’t sure if it was just the noise of the blades, what they represented, or if Din was projecting his anxiety about Grogu onto the current situation. Whatever the case was, Boba simply wanted to take Din’s mind off it and provide him with the comfort he deserved.

When he poked his head out the door, Din was nowhere to be seen. If Din was still in his quarters getting dressed, Boba didn’t want to walk in on him. He decided to go into the cockpit of _Slave I_ so that he could make the jump out of hyperspace whenever he had to.

There Din was, sitting in the seat beside the pilot’s seat wearing his helmet and everything. Boba didn’t blame him – if he had been in a similar situation, he’d want to hide out, too. He couldn’t help but notice a familiar speckled light gray fabric of one of his shirts poking out from under Din’s chest plate. It always put a smile on his face when Din wore his clothes, even when they were stolen from his closet.

Before Boba could comment on the theft, the conn chirped. Boba’s timing had been just right. He looked over at Din, who nodded. He was ready for the jump.

It was a matter of pressing a few buttons and pulling a lever before they both were pushed forward by the force of the change in speed. Boba quickly flung his arm across Din’s chest as if to prevent him from toppling onto the conn (not that he’d actually be able to stop the momentum with just his arm). His arm remained after the two were able to sink back into their seats. Din laced gloved fingers with Boba’s and held their hands to his chest.

Din understood that Boba would do whatever it took to protect him. Boba understood that Din would do whatever it took to stick around for him.

As the planet’s surface drew nearer, Din quietly instructed Boba on precisely where to land as per the instructions from Skywalker. The closer they got, the softer Din’s voice became. Boba had to ask Din multiple times to repeat himself. He could tell that Din’s throat was dry because of how anxious he was. Din didn’t let go of Boba’s hand for a second.

Boba took more time than he usually would with the landing as a result of taking extra care to make it gentle. The last thing Din needed was for his body to be as shaken as his mind was. After an eternity, they were ready to go to the lower deck. Boba descended the ladder first, knowing that Din wanted to procrastinate for as long as possible.

Boba was willing to give Din _scraps_ of indulgence at this point.

Din nearly leapt into Boba’s arms when he got to the bottom of the ladder. Boba pulled him into a _Keldabe._ He knew that Din wanted to see Grogu more than _anything,_ but feared what could come out of the visit. After a few minutes, Din sighed and backed away, showing to Boba that he was ready. Boba took one of Din’s hands and led him to the ship’s door. Boba’s free hand hovered over the door control. Din sighed, his nerves making themselves obvious. Boba squeezed.

“You ready to see your kid?” he asked.

Din slowly nodded.

“Yeah.”

Boba pressed the button and the two of them watched as the door slowly dropped. Din shifted his weight from foot to foot. Boba gently ran his thumb across the side of Din’s hand. All that mattered to him was Din and Grogu. There was nobody else in the galaxy. Boba wasn’t even going to _look_ at-

“Hello, Mr. Djarin!”

Luke _karking_ Skywalker.

Boba gripped Din’s hand so tight that the leather of their gloves creaked. Din slightly turned his head in Boba’s direction but said nothing. Boba’s eyes scanned the area for Grogu but found no sign of him. Instead, all he saw was Skywalker walking toward him with his hand extended.

“I don’t believe we’ve met; my name is Lu-”

“I _know_ who you are,” Boba growled, his threatening tone laced with fury. Skywalker’s eyes went wide as he recognized Boba’s voice. Boba derived immense joy from the fear that seeped into them.

“And you’re Boba Fett. I suppose we _have_ met, then,” Skywalker croaked, shifting his eyes back to Din. “Why is he- what is he d- I mean, why-”

“I have _sworn_ to ensure the child’s safety. It’s a promise I intend to keep, seeing as I have _honor._ ”

“And I have sworn to protect him with my life until he is trained.”

“Then you must be kept alive if I am to keep my promise.” Boba looked at Din, who nodded. Boba harshly sighed, a foul taste developing in his mouth as he realized what he was about to say. He dropped Din’s hand. “Therefore, I must propose a… truce.”

Skywalker gave a strained smile before extending his hand to Boba, who groaned before joining their hands and shaking them. Boba quickly pulled away, almost thankful that his helmet was hiding the scowl he was wearing underneath. Din closed his hand around Boba’s, humming so soft that only the two of them could hear. Boba let out a frustrated huff from his nose but said nothing.

_Din’s hand feels so much better. Like it’s meant to be there._

“Where’s Grogu?” Din finally broke the silence. Skywalker glanced behind him and sighed. This time, it was Din whose hand tightened.

“Right. We had just wrapped up a training session before you arrived, so he was worn out from that. I put him down for a nap. I know it’s _beyond_ poor timing, but-”

“But he’s okay?” Anxiety dominated Din’s voice. Boba pulled him closer.

“Yes, yes, he’s doing just fine. Tired, that’s all.” Din let out a sigh of relief. Boba wanted to punch Skywalker in the teeth for dragging out that explanation and making Din so upset. “Come on in, I’ll make some tea for you two. I’d be happy to review Grogu’s progress while we wait for him to wake up.”

Boba and Din looked at one another, trying to read each other’s expressions under their helmets. After a few moments, Din nodded.

“That would be good. Thank you.”

Luke shifted his line of sight to Boba, who grunted. Din seemed to understand the message and began to walk forward, his hand still in Boba’s.

_Just because I promised to be civil with Skywalker doesn’t mean I’m going to be_ polite _with him._

Skywalker opened doors with short flicks of his wrist. Every time he did so, Boba rolled his eyes. It was a vein display that he just _knew_ was to show Din that he wasn’t enough to keep Grogu safe. He felt the heat of rage fill his chest.

Until he saw a small green creature standing on a countertop in the kitchen, hunched over and eating some sort of pink pastry.

“Grogu, get down from there!” Din yelled, immediately dropping Boba’s hand and sprinting to his kid, scooping him off the counter. “What are you doing?! You could have gotten yourself hurt!”

“Fahder!” Grogu babbled in weak Basic. Boba knew that he’d been learning to speak, but he seemed to still struggle with hard syllables. Din cradled Grogu to his chest, his shoulders heaving as he tried to hold back sobs. Skywalker snuck past the two of them and grabbed a kettle, a tin of tea, and two mugs. He jerked his head toward an arch the led into a room that held a few sofas, chairs, and a large table. Boba reluctantly followed, only to give Din a moment of privacy while he reunited with his son.

The room had an upsetting amount of orange. The sofas and chairs, which had exaggerated cushioning and what looked like frills almost hurt his eyes. Skywalker sat on one and began scooping the tea leaves into each mug. Boba sat down across the table from Skywalker and folded his arms.

“I’m glad they get to see each other again,” Skywalker mused, clicking on the kettle without putting an eye on Boba. “Grogu kept asking and asking for Djarin to visit, but there was never really a good time to do it.”

Within seconds, the kettle clicked, and Skywalker began to pour boiling water into each cup. Boba figured it was not as old as the one that had been left to him by his father – that one took a good few minutes to warm up. As he watched the water fill the mugs, he noticed the tea leaves floating to the top.

“You forgot a diffuser, kid,” Boba muttered. Skywalker held up a finger, and the leaves lifted from the cup. They found their way to a nearby potted plant. Boba clicked his tongue.

“Cassius makes for good fertilizer,” Skywalker hummed. Boba knew that he was faking polite conversation, something that made him even angrier than it would if he had outright told him he wasn’t welcome. “Grogu was telling me that Din was part of a sect of Mandalorians that don’t really remove their helmets. Are you part of it, too? Is that why you came with him?”

Boba’s fists clenched at his sides.

“Afraid not,” he managed through grit teeth. “I have no creed to prohibit me from removing it. _You_ did that plenty on your own.”

Boba slid off his helmet and met Skywalker’s confused stare with a look that would have killed if it could.

_“You_ did this,” Boba spat.

“I was only defending myself,” Skywalker shot back, his eyes now carrying as much poison as Boba’s. “Keep in mind that _you_ were the one trying to kill me for a few credits.”

_Oh, if I hadn’t made that promise to Din, I would rip out this kid’s throat._

But he had a point. He’d only been trying to save his own skin. The end goal hadn’t been to scar and humiliate Boba – it had only been to make it out of there alive. But that didn’t do anything to end the six-year grudge Boba had been holding against Skywalker.

“So, are you still a bounty hunter?”

“More or less.”

“Then the moment Grogu’s training is complete, you’ll try to collect that bounty on me again.”

“My employers are dead.”

“The Empire’s still around. And I’m positive the price on my head is still there. Probably went up, honestly.”

“I owe my allegiance to no one. Certainly not the Empire. I answer to nobody but myself.”

“Then why are you here with Djarin?”

If it hadn’t been for Din’s voice floating into the room, Boba might have thrown one of the teacups at Skywalker. Instead, he simply stood, waiting to see Din. Din came into the room, holding Grogu in one arm. It hadn’t occurred to Boba exactly how small the child was, but he was _small._ He looked back up, almost disappointed that Din had his helmet on. All he wanted was to see a face that wasn’t Skywalker’s.

“There’s someone I want you to meet, kid,” Din said, his voice soft and gentle. All traces of anger that Boba was feeling evaporated. He’d never heard Din sound so calm. Sure, he’d heard him relaxed, but somehow it wasn’t the same. This was more… complete. There was no hidden edge to his voice, no secret fear, just calm. Din stepped closer to Boba. “This is Boba. He helped me rescue you.”

“Buh buh!”

Grogu stretched his arms out to Boba. The kid was _cute._ Din shifted Grogu to hold him out.

“You want to hold him?”

Boba wasted no time. Boba took the kid in both hands and lifted him above his head. Grogu let out a stream of giggles as Boba begin to bounce him.

“Oh, now I have heard _all_ about you!” Boba laughed, finally holding Grogu still and cradling him against his chest. “Quite a handful, aren’t you?”

Boba looked up from the child and saw Din with both hands clasped over his chest. Despite the beskar, Boba could practically see his smile. The ache of desire once again ran through Boba. A life with just him, Din, and Grogu – it felt so close, yet out of his grasp. They were all right there together, but it would only be for a moment. Boba would have to return to his throne, Din to his, and Grogu had to continue his training.

“Madalorin!”

And continue learning how to speak correctly.

Boba chuckled and brought Grogu’s head to his. “That’s right,” he whispered, “this is Mandalorian armor. It belonged to my _buir.”_

_“Buir?”_

Grogu said the word like his mouth was full of pastry, but it still managed to strike Boba in the heart.

“My father. Like how _he’s_ -” Boba handed Grogu back to Din, “your _buir._ ”

Grogu brought his hands up to Din’s helmet.

_“Buir!”_

Din set him down and reached into his pocket, producing the same small silver ball that Boba had seen him take from the wreckage of the _Razor Crest_ after its destruction. Din had since explained that it was a toy to Grogu – something he’d taken a liking to since his first days with Din.

“Alright, you know what to do, kid.”

As Grogu began to lift the ball into the air, Skywalker cleared his throat. Boba looked in his direction with a glare.

“So… I heard you took over Tatooine, no?”

“My dealings are none of your business.”

“Is that why you’re here? Djarin is part of your guard, so you won’t be anywhere without him. I can understand why; he’s really strong, and-”

“How dare you?” Boba growled from the back of his throat. This drew Din and Grogu’s eyes. “You really think I would be so selfish as to force myself into his life just so he could fight for me? You think that I can’t fight for myself? Or that I’d put him in a position where he would have to get hurt for me? You must be out of you _damn mind_ if you think I would willingly let _any_ harm _possibly_ come to Din Djarin!”

Din put a hand on Boba’s shoulder, bringing him out of his anger-fueled trance. Boba sighed and shut his eyes as he felt cool metal on his forehead.

_“Udesii,”_ Din murmured. “It’s okay.”

Boba looked toward Skywalker, who had a stupid expression painted on his face. He waved a finger between the two of them.

“Are you two..?” he began, seemingly unable to find the words to finish the sentence. That kind of thing was almost always followed by the word _partners._

A word that Boba and Din hadn’t quite discussed. That would require confronting things like raising Grogu, the possibility of settling down, and – what had Boba most apprehensive to form a real relationship with Din – the possibility of putting one another in the position of being leverage for those who wished to take ransom from the renown bounty hunters and rulers.

The tension could be cut with a knife. Nobody knew what to say. Boba was afraid that denying it would invalidate everything that he and Din _did_ have. On the other hand, Din might not recognize what they had as a proper romantic partnership; Boba might have been jumping the gun.

Luckily, Grogu was mostly oblivious to the weight of the situation. He waddled over to Skywalker and tugged on his robe.

“Up!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mando'a translations
> 
> udesii = relax (command)  
> ni ceta = i'm sorry (groveling apology - lit. "i kneel")  
> buir = parent


	4. Insults

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boba could have told Din. He could have delved into everything Skywalker represented to him right then, right there. But it brought back the fear of losing everything he had. He was willing to let Din open up about his fears, yet he was unable to open up to Din. What right did he have to burden Din with that? What would happen if Din couldn’t handle both of their issues at the same time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's the closing 5 nights a week and being so exhausted/depressed that i don't have the energy to write when i would otherwise have free time for me

“Up!” Grogu’s voice was small, but loud enough to break the awkward silence that had blanketed the room. Skywalker knelt down to pick up the child, grunting softly as he lifted him. Boba snickered under his breath, his anger being lost to the amusement of seeing Skywalker struggle to lift the squirming child.

_“Laandur,”_ he muttered to Din, who swatted at Boba’s shoulder with the back of his hand.

“Stop it,” Din hissed. He obviously wasn’t pleased that Boba was using Mando’a to insult Skywalker behind his back.

_“Kaysh mirsh solus.”_

“I said, _quit._ ”

_“Jare’la. Adiik. Naasad bajur adade. Kaysh hut’uun.”_

“Boba, _luubid!”_

“Hu toon!”

Both their heads turned to Grogu. Boba had used one of the worst insults in Mando’a and the child repeated it. Not with flawless pronunciation, but he did. Din had gone completely still – it looked like he had stopped breathing.

“Grogu, _don’t_ say-”

“That’s right, Grogu!” Boba interrupted Din with a falsely sweet tone, a wide and disingenuous smile on his face. He was far too angry with Skywalker to listen to anyone but himself. “Master Skywalker is a _hut’uun!”_

Din grabbed Boba’s arm and forcefully pulled him back toward the kitchen.

“Excuse us a moment,” Din spat through gritted teeth as he practically _dragged_ Boba away. As soon as they were out of sight and earshot, he threw Boba’s arm away from him. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You told me you’d stay civil with Skywalker!”

“Well, I can’t!” Boba shouted back. “He’s still that stupid, irresponsible little _coward_ that nearly got me killed! He’s still that same kid and shouldn’t be trusted!”

“Boba, you’ve had so many people try to kill you! That’s part of the job you had! _What_ is your problem with Skywalker?!”

Boba could have told Din. He could have delved into everything Skywalker represented to him right then, right there. But it brought back the fear of losing everything he had. He was willing to let Din open up about his fears, yet he was unable to open up to Din. What right did he have to burden Din with that? What would happen if Din couldn’t handle both of their issues at the same time?

So Boba simply turned his back on Din, storming out of the kitchen and hoping he was going the way he had come. It took about five minutes until he saw the sunlight reflecting off _Slave I._ He opened the door using the controls on his vambrace, his footsteps loudly pounding on the steel below him. He slammed a fist over the button to close it, causing it to crack.

_“Dank farrik!”_

The control itself wasn’t damaged, just the shitty plastic over the button. It was something that would have to wait to be repaired. Boba’s head jerked in every direction while he looked for something, _anything,_ to distract him. He was angry with Skywalker for poking into his business, he was angry with Din for not defending him.

But he couldn’t deny that he was mostly angry at himself.

The fact that he couldn’t bring himself to admit how attached he’d become to Din. How much he was willing to sacrifice for him. How afraid he was to lose something he loved again. How _he_ was the one being a coward. Not Din, not Skywalker, _him._

He let out a yell as he pushed the thought out of his mind. He retrieved a pack of tools from the compartment from which he’d taken the scissors earlier. There had to be _something_ on the ship that could be repaired.

Boba turned his attention to a control panel that had been loosened. He knelt down to it, hissing through the pain in his knee. He removed the panel and looked at the tangled mess of wires that had been behind it. Without thinking, he ripped the wires from their sockets, throwing them to the floor.

_Din doesn’t understand._

A thick layer of dust covered the wires. Boba didn’t bother trying the find a rag; he ran the bottom of his _kute_ across each wire. He couldn’t bring himself to care about getting it dirty. All he wanted to do was focus on the task at hand. On getting every particle of dirt off the plastic coating off every one of the wires.

_He doesn’t know._

Somehow they had managed to get snaked into knots. Maybe it was the parsecs of being jostled around, or perhaps the number of times he would frantically re-arrange them in an emergency repair. He was careful not to pull too hard on the wires – it hadn’t been too long since he’d replaced them because they had frayed. He eventually managed to untangle them and laid them all out next to each other in straight lines.

_It wasn’t just Skywalker._

He knew the inner workings of _Slave I_ so well that he would be able to build a replica in his sleep. He never bothered to label his wires; he knew exactly what each one did and where it went. Even so, working in such a small space that was difficult to see was less than simple. He meticulously arranged the wires so that they wouldn’t cross together again – at least, not for a while.

_All the Jedi do is take and leave everything else destroyed in their wake._

Boba replaced the panel and tightened the fastenings that held it in place. He stood and stared at the panel before kicking it. The action did nothing to quell his anger. A trilling from his vambrace drew his attention. It alerted him that someone was outside the door of his ship. He pulled up the surveillance feed.

Skywalker was standing there, holding Grogu. Boba muttered a string of curses while he marched to the door. He felt the cracked plastic bend under his touch as he opened the door.

“What do you want?” Boba demanded.

“Well-”

“Bo buh!” Grogu cut Skywalker’s explanation short.

“Yeah. Grogu wanted to see you.”

“And why are _you_ bringing him to me?”

“Djarin is still a little… upset with you, I think. He wouldn’t tell me exactly why he was sending me to do it, but I couldn’t change his mind.”

Boba sighed and took the child, who giggled and grasped his chest plate. He turned and began walking back into the ship.

“Fett.”

_“What?”_

“That word, the one that Grogu picked up from you… I don’t know what it means, and Djarin won’t tell me. But if you could convince him to stop saying it, that would be helpful.”

Boba paused for a moment to consider the request.

“Too bad.”

Before Skywalker could argue, Boba closed the doors in his face. He lifted Grogu to his eye line. Grogu stared back at him with those huge eyes of his.

“Wha did… call Maser Sy-er?”

_Maker, he almost speaks Basic like a Gungan._

“It was a bad word, Grogu,” Boba sighed. “I said something very mean about Master Skywalker because I was angry with him. It’s a word you shouldn’t say. It means ‘coward’ in Mando’a.”

“Madalorin!”

“Yes. That’s the Mandalorian language. I can teach you other words, but you have to promise not to say that one. Can you promise me?”

Grogu blinked up at him.

“I po-mise.”

Boba grinned, bouncing the child up and down.

“Very good, _ad’ika,”_ Boba praised. Grogu let out a stream of giggles but was interrupted by a yawn. Boba chuckled. “You never took that nap, did you? I think it’s time for you to rest.”

Boba cradled Grogu against his chest while walking to his quarters. As he put in the code on the pad, he saw that Grogu’s eyes were already fluttering closed. The first thing that Boba noticed when he walked in was the pair of scissors that he’d used to trim Din’s hair earlier. He quickly looked away toward the tangled mess of blankets on his bed. At the top of the pile was the cloak that Din had worn to sleep.

Boba set Grogu on the bed and gathered the cloak in his hands. After arranging a few pillows and draping the cloak over it, he felt it would make a satisfactory little nest for the child. He scooped him up and gently placed him in the center of it, tucking the rest of the fabric over Grogu.

“There you are,” Boba whispered, patting Grogu’s head. “All comfortable?”

Grogu squeaked in what Boba could only assume was affirmation. Boba sat beside him and began humming. When Grogu began to coo along, he almost wept. It was probably the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his entire life.

Then his humming turned to lyrics.

The lyrics of a song his father used to sing to him when he was lulling him to sleep. A song about finally finding love after a life drifting through the universe. About not knowing that love was what he had been looking for until he found it. About never wanting to let it go because it meant more than anything he'd ever had.

It was a song that paired best with a hallikset, but Boba was more skilled with his voice than he was with instruments. Once he had started singing, Grogu quieted as if he was listening. Boba hadn’t reached the bridge before Grogu was fast asleep. Still, he didn’t stop singing until the song was complete.

He stood up as quietly as he could, careful not to wake the child. He grabbed the scissors off the bedside table on his way out of the room. After grabbing the tool pack and putting them back into the storage area, his vambrace trilled once more.

He was relieved to see that it was Din standing outside the ship, holding Boba’s helmet.

He opened the door and Din slowly walked in. Boba noticed that the sun had started to creep from the top of the sky to the horizon. Din handed Boba the helmet he had left in the temple. Without a word, he walked to the kitchenette and took a seat on one of the stools – the same stool he had earlier. When he removed his helmet, Boba was stuck with an expression that was nothing less than distraught.

“What happened?” Din softly asked, echoing Boba’s exact tone from when he had been comforting Din after the haircut.

And everything Boba had been holding back came tumbling out in a stream of frustrated yet silent tears.

“They took _everything_ from me,” Boba choked. “They murdered my father before my eyes. The Jedi destroy anything that poses a threat to them. Anything they can’t take control of, they obliterate. They preach keeping balance, yet it’s all in _their_ vision. And when one of their kind begins to be corrupted, they don’t even try to help – they just outcast or kill them. They know nothing of loyalty or honor. They forbid attachment; they see each other as disposable.

“And if they extend that to the child, I’m just- I don’t want them to take away _your_ family, too.”

Din just stared back at him. He knew next to nothing of the Jedi and almost anything he was told about them flew way over his head. But Boba knew that Din could sympathize. It was under similar circumstances that he had become a Foundling. He had similar reasons for his distrust of droids.

“Skywalker’s not what would be considered an… orthodox Jedi,” Din finally said. “He told me about his father. About how he’d turned to the Dark Side and then turned back. He doesn’t operate like the Jedi Order before him. Forbidding attachments, suppressing fear – he _knows_ that those are the quickest ways to corrupt. He’s seen it himself, and he told me he wouldn’t lead Grogu that way.

“Boba, Grogu isn’t training to be a Jedi. At least, not right now. He’s just learning how to use his powers. Whether he walks the way of the Jedi, the Mandalore, or his own path – that’ll be _Grogu’s_ choice.”

Din brought a hand up to Boba’s face and swept away the tears that were rolling down his face. Boba closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. It was all so _painful_ to think about. Boba wanted a family with Din _so badly,_ but the last time he had a family, it hadn’t ended so well. When he opened his eyes, he saw Din with glassy eyes and a wavering smile.

“I’m sorry,” Boba murmured, “I really didn’t want to put this on you.”

Din just clicked his tongue.

“And you get onto _me_ for not letting myself indulge.” Boba gave him a look of confusion. “You’ve comforted me so much; the least I can do is return the favor. You can’t keep everything bottled up. I know that all too well.”

“You’re right,” Boba sighed. “I know you’re right.”

There was a beat of silence before Din spoke.

“Sorry for not bringing Grogu to you myself.”

“Yeah, Skywalker said that you were still upset with me.”

“What? No, it wasn’t that. I sent him because I wanted you two to have a civil conversation.”

Boba gave a scoff of laughter.

“Unlikely. I don’t think I’m even gonna speak to him at all anymore.”

“That… might actually be a good idea.”

After hours of cleaning that didn’t need to be done and repairs that didn’t need to be made, Grogu finally woke up with loud fussing.

Din and Boba both jumped to their feet and hastily made their way to the ship’s quarters. As soon as the door opened, Grogu quieted. The child looked between the two of them with wide eyes that were still full of sleep, moving his entire head as he went from looking at Din to Boba.

_“Buir!”_

He was looking at Boba when he said it. Boba felt his heart freeze as Din simply chuckled in response. No definitive confirmation or denial, just amusement.

_I swear sometimes he’s easier to read under the beskar._

Din scooped Grogu into his arms, along with Boba’s cloak. Grogu cooed. Din sat down on the bed, using his head to motion for Boba to join him. The gesture took a moment to process in Boba’s brain, but he slowly sat. Din lightly rocked Grogu and rested his head on Boba’s shoulder.

“Everything alright?” Din whispered. Boba hummed.

“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He paused. “So what do we do now? Can’t hide out here forever.”

Din let out a laugh and pressed a kiss to Boba’s cheek. Boba could feel his head begin to cloud. He’d never seen Din acting like this.

So relaxed, so affectionate – Boba hadn’t been completely sure that Din was even _capable_ of such things. Maybe it was being reunited with the child that had put him at ease. It was something that Boba never wanted to end. Din deserved to finally be secure with his kid for once.

“Skywalker wanted to show us what Grogu’s been learning,” Din began. “I know you’re probably not _thrilled_ to go back, but-”

“No, it’s fine. I’m serious about not speaking to him, though.”

“I know,” Din chuckled. He stood, careful not to jostle Grogu as he did so. Boba stood and followed Din off the ship and into the temple, this time making sure to note his surroundings and their path so he wouldn’t get lost again. The first time he’d walked the path, he’d been too pissed off to pay attention.

When they walked into the common area of the temple, Skywalker’s head popped up from its position of leaning down to talk to a droid – a blue R2 unit. He gave Din a nod but made no eye contact with Boba.

_At least the kid has some sense now._

“Boba and I wanted to see what you’ve been teaching Grogu,” Din said. Skywalker smiled and walked to Din, taking the child from him but leaving behind Boba’s cloak. Din wrapped the cloak around himself and looked at Boba with a tilted grin. It was the only thing in the room that Boba could see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mando'a translations (there's a lot of them this time)
> 
> laandur = weak  
> kaysh mirsh solus = he's an idiot (lit. his brain cell is alone)  
> jare'la = reckless  
> adiik = child  
> naasad bajur adade = he's no teacher  
> kaysh hut'uun = he's a coward (worst insult in mando'a)  
> luubid! = enough!  
> kute = clothes worn under armor  
> ad'ika = little one (typically a term of endearment)  
> buir = parent


End file.
